Hebrews 11:8 By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out into a place which he was afterward going to receive for an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he went.
We often celebrate beginnings—new chapters, breakthroughs, divine appointments. But in God’s economy, every true beginning requires a holy crossing. Before the Hebrews could enter the Promised Land, they had to leave Egypt. Before they entered the Promised Land, they had to cross over the Red Sea. And before Abraham could receive God’s promises, he had to obey a single command: “Leave.”
Abraham stood at that threshold. When he obeyed God’s call to walk away from his homeland, his security, and all that was familiar, he became the first Hebrew—the first Ivri, literally one who crosses over. He stepped across the invisible boundary between the known and the unknown, the natural and the supernatural, the seen and that which was promised.
The identity of God’s people is rooted in crossing: from unbelief to faith, from bondage to freedom, from death to life. God didn’t just call Abraham to a destination—He called him to a transformation. And transformation begins when we say goodbye to what’s behind.
Leaving is not just an act of trust—it is a declaration of faith in the unseen. It’s Abraham turning his back on everything familiar—his land, his family, his future plans—to follow a voice, a promise, a God he could not see. It’s the Hebrews standing at the edge of the Red Sea, with Pharaoh’s army closing in behind them and nothing but water before them—yet stepping forward, believing that the God who delivered them once would make a way again.
Leaving is the willingness to let go before you see what’s coming next. It’s choosing to release your grip on the known in exchange for the eternal. It’s not a loss—it’s a surrender that leads to something greater.
Think about the disciples. Their journey with Yeshua (Jesus) didn’t begin with great sermons or miracles. It began when they dropped their nets. They left their boats, their routines, their comfort zones—and followed Him. Without leaving, there would have been no following. Without the exit, no entrance. It’s not just a principle of geography. It’s a paradox of the Kingdom.
How often do we pray for a breakthrough while clinging to what God is asking us to release? We want resurrection, but resist the cross. We want the Promised Land, but won’t leave our Egypt. Yet, the exodus is not punishment—it’s preparation.
God doesn’t just take things away—He delivers us from what no longer fits our future, so He can place in our hands what was always meant to be ours. He strips away what cannot stay, to make room for what cannot be shaken. What He asks you to release is never greater than what He’s preparing to give.
Perhaps for you, it’s a mindset that needs to be left behind, a fear that has kept you stuck, or a comfort zone that has become a cage. “Crossing over” means trusting that what God is leading you toward is greater than what He’s asking you to leave behind. What lies ahead with Him always outweighs what’s left behind. It’s believing the Promised Land ahead is worth every Egypt that’s left behind. It’s choosing, like Abraham, to become one who crosses over.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]The Bible seems virtually redundant on the theme of courage. More than 125 exhortations for God’s people facing overwhelming trials and dilemmas, resound against fear, notwithstanding how natural that response may seem. Courage based on faith is the universal attitude for saints in all situations. Our omnipotent (all-powerful), omniscient (all-knowing), and omnipresent (everywhere) Father says, and repeats, “Fear not! Be of good courage! Be strong and courageous!”
As my wife and I have been redeployed to the United States for a season we’ve traveled over 150,000 miles since 2020. Vehicles which deliver the kind of distances we travel need regular oil changes to stay reliable. So, our vehicles have enjoyed innumerable pit stops.
As we continue to inspect our hearts and take spiritual inventory of our lives during this month of Elul in preparation for the fall feasts, we should stay particularly aware of Yeshua’s prediction in Matthew 24:12, “The love of many will grow cold.” He warned that a sign of the last days would be abounding lawlessness and that callousness and hardness of heart would characterize the end times. The evidence of this is everywhere.
Traditionally in Jewish spirituality, these 40 days of prayer and repentance beginning the 1st of Elul to Yom Kippur parallel the 40 days that Moses spent on the mountain [Exodus 34:28] pleading God’s forgiveness for Israel’s sin of creating and worshiping the golden calf. Interestingly, Psalm 27 is read each day of the month of Elul, along with the shofar blast in preparation for Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement).
As we continue our study for Elul, a month set apart for repentance in preparation for the fall feasts, we find a message hidden in the four Hebrew letters spelling the name of this special month. Alef-Lamed-Vav-Lamed form an “acronym” for a well-known passage in the Song of Solomon: Ani l-dodi v-dodi li or in English, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”
I happened (on rare occasion) the other day to see a CNN headline, “Health Officials Brace for Three Major Viruses this Fall”. Immediately, I thought, “Not again!” Yet, scouring the headlines, it now appears that several colleges are instituting mask mandates even though there isn’t a case of illness yet. While the world is being prepared for an “outbreak” of disease, I’m hoping we may learn a lesson from history so that, perhaps, we’ll see an “outbreak” of revival!
As we enter this season of Teshuva (Repentance) during the month of Elul, we enter a unique season approaching the Fall Feasts. This month initiates a 40-day countdown to Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), and is traditionally known as the time the King would visit His people.